


The Mermaid AU Nobody Asked For

by IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction



Series: Bri Shut Up [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Terrifying Hunter Disney Princess, Alive Allison, Alive Hale Family, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Allison is a Disney Princess, Alpha Derek, And Not The Ariel Kind, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, But Also Terrifying, Dark Derek, Dark Derek Hale, Dark Hale Family Because Mermaid Related Reasons, Derek Has Issues, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, I'm Using It As An Umbrella Term For "Fucked Up Sea People", Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Danny Mahealani, Mermaid Derek, Mermaid Erica Reyes, Mermaid Hale Family, Mermaid Isaac Lahey, Mermaid Vernon Boyd, Mermaids Prob Not Written Correctly, Possessive Derek, Protective Scott, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:47:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction/pseuds/IdSellMySoulForRecentlyUpdatedFanfiction
Summary: After being thrown into the world of the supernatural after Scott is bitten by a rogue alpha werewolf, Stiles is forced to take a position of power and help the werewolf learn control. After events that get gradually more and more fucked, Stiles takes in one to many strays and people in need and ends up the alpha of a pack consisting of way too many different species. When the human makes it his personal goal to keep Beacon safe from the (unfairly attractive) murderers that try to steal away citizens and drag them into the water, he and his pack end up being a target of the "mermen and mermaids" that inhabit the ocean around Beacon. Come watch as things get actively more fucked than before.





	1. If Y'all Wanna Recommend Chapter Titles I'd Be Hyped

        Beacon is a large island with a large population, with most of it’s inhabitants supernatural or clueless. Families with houses and businesses passed down through the generations mull around in the city, the humans generally sticking to the places without trees and away from the mountains. There are beaches with white sand and beautiful dark water filled with elegant looking shells, but nobody even so much as thinks about going onto the docks. Nobody gets within fifteen feet of the water, and most adults don’t even set foot on the beaches. Getting too close for the water is a surefire way to die for those who don’t have claws or fangs or heightened senses, and even then there’s a high risk of death. The supernatural don’t go there anyway. They’re pretty scared of the almost solid tendrils of water that can grab them and of humans with guns and unluckily good aim.

        There are, of course, people who _do_ go to the water, but with guns to other’s heads or knives to children’s throats and a hunger for power in their eyes. Nobody ever sticks around to sees what happens, but it’s not that hard to figure out the ‘rewards’ the murderers get. Humans with stolen strength and unnaturally sharp teeth aren’t hard to spot. Their eyes might be an inky black, the color of the water a good fifty feet away from the beaches. Some ponds and lakes in the forest are that color too. Nobody nears them, weary of the dark liquid that refuses to sink into the dirt around those areas. Sometimes the murderers have their heads tilted to the side as they listen to something even werewolves can’t hear. Packs make sure to tell each other about who acts like they’ve been possessed, and the people vanish not even two days later, killed and buried deep in the forest.

        Just because people don’t go near the water doesn’t mean they’re not at risk. Citizens of Beacon still vanish, usually from the forest. Most of them are children that refuse to listen to their parents or teenagers that accept stupid, deadly dares. There’s a general distrust within the human population of Beacon because of that, people scared that their neighbors are the sea creatures in disguise or are controlled by them. Even those with super senses can’t tell, as merpeople smell dangerously similar to whatever species they were before they turned, or they mimic a werewolf like scent. Luckily, and also unluckily, only _very_ powerful merpeople can shift to human forms. Even more unluckily, some of the merpeople are able to shift into animals, too. It’s much harder to fight a wolf or a jaguar than a shifted merperson. More powerful packs have taken to ridding Beacon of the merpeople, half of them only doing it so they seem at least as powerful as the pack with humans in it.

        The murder of their people, though, caught the sea creature’s/god’s/whatever’s attention. Unfortunately, it’s also caught the attention of the human members of the police force. Given that almost all humans in Beacon are absolutely oblivious with anything supernatural (besides the mermaids and men), that means that they think there are mass murders going on. Possibly a group of serial killers. And, because the supernatural community would be exposed to explain how they know which people are merpeople, that means that Sheriff Stilinski is on what’s practically a manhunt for the people killing the mermaids and men. Meaning he’s more than willing to _shoot_ whoever’s killing them.

        That would be why his son, Stiles, is panicking in the blue Jeep parked in front of his house. His shirt is clinging to his side, the black material stained a darker color as it pulls at his skin and the muscle and fat that’s exposed under it. Stiles grabs his hoodie from the passenger seat with shaky hands, shoving it against the wound with a pained whimper at the pain that flares up and down his side. The teen stumbles out of the car, gritting his teeth and wiping his face clean of tears with the hand that’s not bloody. Stiles all but runs up the stairs of his porch, and he nearly falls into his house.

        “Stiles?” John calls, and Stiles speed walks to the stairs. He waves at his dad as he passes, before he backs up again, narrowing his eyes at the strangers in his kitchen before putting on a politely curious expression.

        "Heeey, daddio. Who- uh, who’re your friends?” Stiles asks, half of his willpower being used to not wince or tear up at the throbbing pain refusing to be ignored. The older woman in the kitchen furrows her brows, her nostrils flaring. “Actually, you know what? I should probably shower first. Running around and getting tackled into the mud isn’t really all that fun. I’m just gonna.. Yeah.” Stiles hauls ass upstairs before the strangers can figure out what reeks of blood. The teen flies into his bathroom, throwing his change of clothes onto the closed toilet seat. He plugs his phone in and mutes it, laying it face down on the counter.

        Stiles strips out of his coat and throws the hoodie into the sink after he fills it with water. Stiles has to cut his shirt off of him, and he gags, nearly puking at the pain that accompanies the pulling of his skin and what’s supposed to be underneath it. Stiles stares at the wound, breathing heavily through his mouth so he doesn’t smell all the blood. He wipes at said blood with a washcloth, avoiding the places where bumps of red muscle mixed with white fat are exposed. The human pulls out the first aid kit Melissa had stolen from the hospital for him, grabbing the supplies he needs to stitch the wound shut.

        Stiles stumbles over to the closet in his bathroom, unlocking it using a key and then opening the mini fridge hidden in it using a code. He pulls out a syringe, and his stomach rolls violently when he glances back down at his side. He injects the numbing liquid quickly, shoving the syringe into the garbage next to the mini fridge before he locks everything up again. The human moves quicker now as the pain subsides slightly, doing his best to _not_ look at all the blood and the things that should not see daylight as he stitches everything quickly. When that’s done, Stiles tosses the needle, and puts the first aid kit away. He pops too powder blue pills, also stolen by Melissa, and turns on the shower.

        As Stiles waits for the water to heat up, he cleans the rest of the blood off his side with a handful of cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. The human doesn’t bother not going over the stitches, knowing the wounds are definitely gonna scar anyway. Son of a bitch. Stiles jumps into the shower, cleaning off the rest of the blood. He’s careful to scrub every inch, not wanting anybody to smell the merman blood in his hair and under his nails. People know that there’s a pack with two humans, but they don’t know the rankings and they don’t know who they are. They might assume him and Allison, but they’re never sure as most packs have human friends.

        The pain meds have kicked in completely as Stiles steps out of the shower. There’s a knock on the bathroom door as Stiles is dressing. “You okay in there? Heard something like you falling.” John says. Stiles tugs on pants quickly, and a shirt even faster in case his dad uses a key to unlock the bathroom door.

        “Nope, all good here. Just tripped getting into the shower.” Stiles lies, feeling sick at how easy it is. He hears his dad make an irritated yet fond noise before footsteps head out of his room and down the stairs. Stiles glances at his phone, rinsing his mouth quickly at the panicked messages from Scott. There’s two from Lydia.

         **Pack House. Get here fast** And then, **Bring your bag**

        “Shit! Shit _shitshitshitshit_ -” Stiles shoves his phone into his pocket, skidding into his bedroom to yank on his socks and shoes. He pulls on his other hoodie, this one black and bigger, before grabbing his bloody one. The teen stampedes down the stairs, throwing his hoodie into the washing machine before his dad sees the blood soaking it. “Hey, uh. I gotta go.” Stiles says, when he passes his dad, grabbing his keys from the dining room table. “I’m really sorry. I’d love to meet your new partners or friends or whatever,” _Not really, they’re giving off insane supernatural bad touch vibes_ , “but Scott really needs some help with his essay. I’d help him from here, but he has yet to discover the wonders of Google Docs. Um.. There are leftovers in the fridge, and I put your clothes in the dryer, and I’ll be home before..” Stiles glances at his phone and says, “three AM? I’ll text you if I stay over. I’ll probably stay over. Actually yeah, I’m gonna stay over at Scott’s tonight.”

        “Alright. Be safe.” John says, causing Stiles to pause in his quick exit. The teen frowns at his dad, not used to no ‘Melissa is probably tired of you almost living at her house’ speech.

        “Are… Are you alright?” Stiles asks. John clears his throat, standing up straighter quickly. He doesn’t look at the people next to him.

        “Yeah, I’m fine, son. Just tired. It was a long day at work today. Go help Scott.” John says, and Stiles shuffles his feet. He needs to go. He _knows_ that he needs to go but something’s not right and he can’t just leave his dad when it might be dangerous. Stiles eyes slide over to the older woman, her hair’s a dark brown and her eyes are the same color, and the man, his hair and light stubble is either dark blonde or light brown and his eyes are cold and a vivid blue. Both of them are staring at him now, observing him like he is them. “ _Stiles_.” The teen’s eyes snap back to his dad. “Go help Scott. Everything’s fine. Your hypervigilance is acting up again, alright?”

        “Yeah.. Alright.” Stiles glances at the two people in his kitchen again before he turns, grabbing the bag deep in the closet (his dad thinks it’s an already prepared ‘sleepover bag’). Stiles leaves, a heavy feeling deep in his chest that makes him nauseous. Stiles climbs into his Jeep, taking off with the loud roar of the engine. The rest of the pack is already there when he gets to the house. It’s a giant thing, the outside painted white with the roofing a dark brown. There’s large windows, all bulletproof, and a porch that wraps around the entire house, warded to prevent fires and magical attacks. Stiles flinches as the panic he feels through the bonds intensify as he gets out of the car, his wolf (even while buried deep inside) smelling somebody’s blood. Probably. Hopefully, otherwise there’s dangerous people not pack in the pack house. Stiles grabs his bag, slinging it onto his shoulder as he runs into the house, a knife ready just in case. When it becomes apparent nobody is there to attack him, he drops the knife on a table in the hallway and follow the bond through the house.

        When Stiles bursts into the room, he nearly trips himself in shock. There’s somebody bleeding, but he has no idea who she is. Her hair is blonde and wavy, and her eyes a burning gold as she snaps at Scott. Her nose is wrinkled in fury, and her furry transformation not only grew her muttonchops the same color as her hair, but it caused her eyebrows to disappear. “What the _fuck_ is going on?” Stiles shouts, having to to be heard over the growling werewolf. There’s another stranger in the room, his hair is curly and a blondish brownish color. He’s watching the girl Scott’s pinned to the table with wide blue eyes, and he’s shrunken in on himself. When Stiles looks closer he can see that the stranger is trembling.

        “We found her with scratch marks all over. Looks like an alpha did it. The only reason she didn’t bleed out is because he,” Lydia nods to the stranger in the corner, “kept enough pressure and cloth on her wounds. We think they were in the same pack and ran.” Stiles eyes narrow at the other boy.

        “What’s your name?” Stiles asks, and blue eyes flicker up and over to meet his nervously. The boy shifts, hugging his arms around himself.

        “Isaac. That’s- That’s Erica. I don’t- Understand? You’re human?” Isaac says is like a question, and Stiles nods.

        “I’ll help Erica, but neither of you are allowed to talk about the pack and where this house is, alright?” Stiles waits for Isaac to nod before he slings his bag off his shoulder and onto the table next to the one Erica is pinned to. He rummages through his bag before handing Lydia a knife and pulling out a baggie of black and purple powder. “Heat this up.” He orders.

        “Danny!” Lydia calls, wandering out of the room to find the mage. Stiles opens the baggy and dumps a handful out into his open palm, before he strides over to the near feral werewolf.

        “ _Stop_.” Stiles hates using alpha tone. He’s not a wolf, so he doesn’t have the vocal things he needs to say it at the ready. It rips up his throat, and it makes his almost unable to speak for days. It needs to be used right now, though, because Erica’s going to fuck him up if he doesn’t make her stop thrashing around. The she wolf stares at him in shock, finally not moving. Lydia returns, and Stiles throws the powder into the long gash up Erica’s side. She lets out a pained sound, and Stiles grabs the heated knife, pressing it over the wound. Erica arches up, letting out a pained snarl. Stiles doesn’t let up until the wound is completely closed, and then he throws the knife into a bowl of water.

        The pack glances at each other as Erica slowly sits up, Isaac rushing to her side to make sure she’s okay. Allison is the first to speak up. “So what do we do with them now?”


	2. O Shit Mermaid Stuff

        Stiles thinks one of the reasons he hates mermaids so much is because they’re evil genetically. Unlike humans, some personality traits are passed down through families, and the need to eat humans is equal to the need to drink water. They die if they don’t for a certain amount of time. What’s worse is that means that the babies, chubby, speechless beings usually grouped in with cuddly things, drink _human blood_ and eat _human_ _flesh_. Because of all this, Stiles’ pack, and all packs, really, need to be careful about who they kill. Merpeople on land are usually watched for a few days, and if they don’t sneak into the hospital to steal organs from storage or wherever the hell they’re placed packs kill them. There are about two merpeople, both in a relationship with non-merpeople (a human and a wolf), that have been allowed to live. While they’re still watched closely, they’re seen sneaking into the hospital frequently.

        It’s a shitty thing to do, but packs would rather have donated organs and blood be stolen than citizens of Beacon. There are also merpeople who wash up on the beach, and those situations are even worse. One of those situations is why Stiles is currently parking his Jeep inside the forest before trudging onto the beach. Satomi, the single alpha who actually respects Stiles’ status, is already there, her pack keeping humans away from the beach and the situation out of sight. “Stiles.” The werewolf greets.

        “Hey, Satomi.” Stiles sighs, crossing his arms as he stares at the mermaid on the beach. A sound, something like a growl and a screech mixed together, is rumbling out of her, and her eyes, a dark brown currently, narrow on Stiles as he stands next to Satomi. The noise gets louder, and Stiles winces. If the noise is so god awful for him, he can’t imagine how bad Satomi’s headache must be. Stiles takes a hesitant step forward, and the mermaid’s brown eyes flare up a burning gold, the noise getting even _louder_. “ _Shit_.” Stiles whispers, staring at the gold eyes. The mermaid looks around Stiles’ age, so she’s probably about thirty with how slow the supernatural age. It’s kind of surprising she hasn’t killed anybody yet. However, she _totally_ knows how to fuck a human or were up by now, so Satomi and Stiles are kind of stuck.

        They can’t kill her, it’s one of the unspoken rules set in place with the merpeople. God, does Beacon’s supernatural community hate them, but they don’t kill innocents. And, given that merpeople _need_ to eat humans, they can’t kill any merperson with gold eyes unless it’s a life or death situation. On the other hand, Stiles has no idea if this mermaid is gonna kill him if he gets to close. She obviously doesn’t know that he and Satomi aren’t here to kill her, so she might take a shot at killing him if he tries to help her. Satomi is out of the question, as her alpha-ness can be sensed even by humans down a few city blocks, so that leaves Stiles, who’s alpha-ness is actually as powerful as Satomi’s but can only be felt when he’s _really_ pissed and probably killing people.

        “You’re safe. I may be old, and I may fight mostly with claws, but my aim has only gotten better with age.” Satomi assures, flashing Stiles the gun hidden inside her coat. Stiles sighs through his nose, rubbing at his face as he takes another step toward the mermaid. She’s from a powerful ass family, Stiles can actually _feel_ it, and the black tail is a pretty good indicator. No humans or even supernatural creatures on Beacon know the names of the families, but they know they exist. There’s a pretty solid color scheme to them, and the most powerful families so far have either black/purple tails or silver/really light blue tails. Or maybe it’s packs. Stiles is pretty sure the tails change color when somebody is brought into a pack. That, or tails change colors seasonally, because he’s seen merpeople have their tails go from red to gold and all sorts of different shifts.

        “Okay, shit. You can’t even understand what I’m saying. I’m not here to hurt you, okay? _I_ ,” Stiles points to himself, “am gonna put _you_ ,” Stiles points to the mermaid, “back in the _water_.” Stiles points to the ocean. There are eyes watching further out, burning blue and amber and looking fucking _terrifying_ overall because Stiles is a juiced up human at best and scared as hell at worst. Stiles takes another step toward the mermaid, keeping most of his attention on her clawed hands. His eyes flicker to her face, and he sees her eyes narrowed on his knife. Stiles glances back at Satomi, who nods reassuringly, before he gently tosses his knife and his gun to the side. He thinks for a moment before tossing his jacket with it.

        Stiles holds his hands up in a placating manner, taking another step forward, listening to make sure the pitch of the growl-screech doesn’t deepen or get higher. It actually quiets down somewhat, still there but no longer as strong. Stiles takes a few shaky steps forward, getting more nervous the closer he gets to the mermaid, because her growl-screech really isn’t going away. Back in the water, Stiles freezes as he sees a pair of red eyes flicker to life, much closer to the beach than Stiles is comfortable with. There’s a rumbling noise, something so deep and powerful Stiles can _feel_ it pass through him, and the mermaid on the beach quiets down. Now see, Stiles was mostly down for putting Ariel here back in the water before, right? But now, now that he can see alpha red and the black swish of a tail dangerously powerful, he’s not so sure. Stiles can barely see him, only able to see dark black hair and red eyes (thankfully only focused on Satomi so far) and thick brows. He can’t see him, and knows that alpha merpeople can control the water, and just from the _feeling of the merman’s not-growl_ Stiles can tell he’s pretty much fucked if the alpha changes his mind, and that fucking _scares_ him, alright? He can’t fight _water_.

        “Satomi..?” His words are shaky, and his hands are trembling, but he knows that Satomi is aiming at the red eyes now.

        “It’d be offensive to not put her back, now.” Satomi points out, and Stiles swallows thickly, glancing back at the mermaid on the beach. Stiles’ eyes snap to the water again as long tendrils sneak out, lazily coming closer to Stiles and the mermaid. They’re not long enough, though. They can’t reach the mermaid by quite a few feet. Stiles wants to know how the hell the mermaid fucked up so badly to get this far out of the water. Probably a wave. Stiles hesitantly closes the distance between him and the mermaid, feeling trapped. The mermaid is watching him again, her distrust written clearly on her snarling face, but she doesn’t start growling again.

        She lifts her arms, like a kid who wants to be picked up, and Stiles takes a deep, not-really-calming breath before he crouches down. He points a finger at her, using the bravery he definitely doesn’t have right now to say, “Do _not_ bite me. Or claw me. Or maim or kill me in  any fashion.” The mermaid stares back at him, clearly not understanding a word he says. She can probably taste the fear rolling off of him, but she doesn’t react to it. Stiles tries to calm down, looking more at the mermaid’s tail than her face, but his focus snaps back up as she makes a noise. Carefully, slowly, making sure Stiles _knows_ what she’s doing, the mermaid tilts her head to the side, baring her throat. Her brown hair is dark and long and stuck to her neck and face, but Stiles can see the look in her eyes. The human swallows, clenches his jaw, and reaches out, placing a trembling hand on the mermaid’s bared neck.

        “Shit. Alright. I can do this. And not get brutally murdered. Hopefully.” Stiles starts rambling to himself, needing _something_ to calm him down as he eyes the tendrils of water warily. He places one arm under where the mermaid bends her tail and the other on her upper back, and slippery arms wrap around his shoulders and neck as Stiles stands. It’s dead silent except for the waves crashing down onto the sand, and Stiles silently carries the mermaid closer to the water. The tendrils rise up, and Stiles nervously places the mermaid on them. They wrap around her where Stiles’ arms where, and Stiles lets go of the mermaid quickly.

        Stiles moves to step back, his eyes flickering to the water, but red eyes are suddenly boring into his, _much_ closer to the beach than before, and Stiles is yanked on by his ankle. The human falls, his head connecting solidly with the ground as he’s dragged closer to the water. Panic races through him as he claws at the sand, unable to find anything to grab onto. The alpha, bigger than Stiles thought, rears up out of the water, grabbing onto Stiles’ ankle and pulling himself as the tendrils disappear. “ _Sato_ -” Stiles is cut off as a mouth is slammed against his, cutting him off. His lip is bit hard enough to cut deep and draw blood, and the merman’s blood is shoved into his own. A gunshot rings off, and the merman jerks, pulling away a few moments later.

        Stiles scrambles back, and Satomi is there quickly, pulling him back. Something is stuck in Stiles’ throat, burning and coating the inside as another part races upwards and attacks his brain. It sends Stiles into a coughing/choking fit, his eyes burning as pain nearly overwhelms him. “-iles? _Stiles_?” Satomi is shouting, crouched over Stiles and checking his pulse now that they’re far enough away from the water.

        “ _I- What the hell is-_ ” The words sound lilted, something deep and something high pitched mixing in with his voice as the words tear at his throat. Satomi’s eyes widen in shock, and she pulls Stiles into a hug, her hands shaking almost unnoticeably.

        “ _Payment for your assistance_.” A new voice says, and Stiles flinches, eyes flickering to the dark water again. The alpha has retreated back to the water, the bullet that had been imbedded in his side shining on the beach near the ocean.

        “ _I don’t_ want _it. I_ don’t- I _don’t want-_ ” Stiles is shaking, and his voice is switching between the pitched and his regular speak. He tastes blood when he talks, his lip still bleeding from too-sharp teeth. Satomi’s alpha waves get stronger, and she pulls Stiles closer to her, blocking the smirking merman from his view.

        “Stiles? Look at me. You’re okay, alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Satomi asks, her eyes full of concern.

        “I- No, I mean, my lip is kinda-” Stiles is having problems speaking in full sentences, pain still pounding in his head. It feels like somebody is taking a sledgehammer to his brain and the inside of his skull. The pitches are gone from his voice as he speaks again, “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

        “Somebody call Melissa McCall and tell her to get to their pack house. Call his pack too. Now!” Satomi roars, her eyes blazing red. Stiles isn’t even able to feel grateful for how concerned she is about his health. He likes Satomi. She’s like a motherly figure in his life, so why wouldn’t she be concerned. Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes roll back and everything goes dark.


	3. Vaguely Shady

_Stiles can feel an animal like panic racing through him, the world sharpening into a near painful clarity as a flash of alpha floods through his body, sending out a wave of power. The air tastes salty, and a smell like power, death, and ocean burns the inside of his nose and his throat. The sand, unnaturally soft and cold, is stuck under his fingernails and dusts his hair a pale color. The water is nipping cold where it’s soaking into his pants and dripping onto his chest where the alpha hovers over him. The sound of waves crashing is almost deafening with Stiles’ briefly enhanced senses, but as quickly as it arrived, the alpha sense disappears, unused to being powerless._

_The building panic rises up and crashes like the waves around Stiles, causing him to carelessly strike out at the alpha. The merman catches it easily, pinning Stiles’ hands before lowering his face near Stiles’ neck. Blinding fear almost blocks out Stiles’ common sense, but the human struggles, holding onto it. Something isn’t right. Other than the obvious, something isn’t right. Where’s Satomi? She said she had his back. Where is she? Stiles’ eyes flick around, wide and terrified. He stares at the water crashing onto the beach, but it’s far away. Why is it so far away? Why isn’t it crashing right next to him?_

_Stiles’ attention immediately snaps back to the alpha as he shoves his face entirely into Stiles’ neck, cold water dripping down the bared skin and splashing onto the sand. A hand shoves Stiles roughly, pinning him in place as fangs are set against his bared neck. Pressure is being applied, and a smug aura rolls off the alpha like the power constantly radiating off of the merman. Stiles is going to be turned. Fangs are at his neck and Stiles can’t move and he’s going to be turned and-_

        Stiles recoils into consciousness, his heart hammering and his chest heaving as he scrambled backwards on his bed. He all but falls out of his bed, stumbling into the bathroom. He barely registers that he’s back in his house, the one he shares with his dad, as he slams into the sink. His hands shake as he flicks the shower light on, the light a warm yellow as it floods the room. He raises a trembling hand, probing at the angry red, raised skin under his ear. Stiles slowly realizes he’s not just shaking from fear. His lips are blue, and the batman pj pants he slept in are damp, but still cold.

        Stiles backs out of his bathroom with wide eyes, and he turns to his bed. He stares almost numbly at his damp sheets, his lungs tightening as his heart rate speeds up again. Stiles grabs at his hair, tripping backwards, slamming into the wall. He slips, sliding down until he hits the floor. He’s clutching at his chest, struggling to breath when Scott bursts into the room, panic displayed clearly on his face. His eyes snap to Stiles immediately, and Lydia runs into the room as soon as Scott is kneeling next to his alpha. The banshee stares at Stiles, her green eyes narrowing in confusion and concern.

        “Stiles? Stiles, look at me. You’re okay, alright? You’re safe. I’m here. _We’re_ here. You’re safe, Stiles. _Breathe_.” Stiles’ vision in blurring so badly he almost doesn’t notice Lydia is kneeling next to him now, tugging down the sleeve of her jacket. She rests her hand on his bicep, her face sharpening in concentration before a glowing white travels up her veins. Stiles gasps, almost violently, as he’s able to breathe again. His eyes are flickering between his normal amber and a red surrounded by a dull grey, and Scott throws Lydia a worried look.

        Lydia crouches in front of her alpha, staring him in the eye, watching the panic mostly vanish. She frowns as some remains, unable to be seen but easily smelled by supernatural creatures. “What happened?” She asks quietly, and Stiles motions vaguely to the mark on the side of his neck. Lydia’s frown deepens before she turns Stiles head to the side by shoving at his jaw gently. When she pokes the mark, Stiles jolts like he’s been punched, actually _wheezing_ afterwards. Lydia almost jumps away, but she stays put, staring at the mark with wide eyes. “What happened? On Friday. You’ve been sleeping for the last two days.”

        “There was a mermaid. Gold eyes. Had to put her back.” Stiles says, still breathing a bit heavier than usual. “Her alpha was there. Fucking _powerful_ one too. I was passing her over when I got knocked over and dragged. Apparently her alpha has a thing for scrawny, pale, and fucking terrified.” Lydia’s eyes snap away from the mark on Stiles’ neck to stare into his own pair.

        “He _kissed_ you?” Lydia almost hisses, and Stiles winces at the shocked tone. Lydia doesn’t _do_ shock. Lydia does scarily composed and unaffected.

        “I didn’t really _ask_ for it, Lyds.” Stiles bites back, feeling suddenly defensive even though Lydia definitely wasn’t blaming him for it. “He might’ve been attractive, all merpeople are, but I don’t think ‘mass murdering cannibal’ is my type.”

        “That’s- I didn’t mean it like that. You _know_ I didn’t mean it like that.” Lydia says. She sighs through her nose, rubbing her forehead before she focuses back on Stiles’ face. “Are you okay?” The words are oddly gentle in a way Stiles doesn’t like. It’s like he’s fragile or something. He’s _fine_.

        “I’m fine.” Stiles mutters, shoving his face in his hands. “Sorry.” He thinks Lydia shakes her head.

        “Are you hurt?” Scott asks, and Stiles glances at him through his fingers.

        “I got sliced and diced by that one mermaid, the feral one? Entirely black eyes, freaky ass blue hair? Glowing veins that I think were black towards the end? I fixed that myself though. I got bit yesterday, though. Not changing, because I’d already be all Ariel-like by now if he had the intent to change. But it was- He bit my lip, and then I basically got choked with _his_ blood, but I don’t know where it came from. Probably his tongue or something.” Stiles scrunches up his face. The alpha was definitely attractive, but, as Stiles already said, the dude is fucking _terrifying_ , and he typically does his best to _not_  interact with murderers. “I think he might’ve scratched my ankle a bit, too. It’s hurting pretty badly now that I don’t have the overwhelming urge to pass out because lack of oxygen.” Stiles adds.

        “Fuck.” Lydia whispers as Scott goes to check on Stiles’ ankle. There are holes from claws, five of them dug deep into his skin. Stiles winces at the wound, staring uncertainly at the dark blue substance, looking squishy, that’s filled the holes. It’s not what happens when merpeople heal, Stiles knows that for sure. Their skin just knits back together, like how werewolves heal. Stiles doesn’t _know_ what the fuck this is, and that might actually scare him more than knowing. If he was turning, he’d at least know what to do. He doesn’t have a single clue as to what to do in this situation. Lydia, though seems to have a vague idea as to what’s going on.

        “Lyds? Wanna tell us what has your perfect complexion going so pale?” Stiles asks, swallowing around the lump in his throat. There’s a slight tingly feeling that’s been there since Stiles woke up, but it’s insanely easy to ignore, so Stiles has decided to try ignoring the problem until it goes away.

        “You can understand them now, right? You can understand what they’re saying?” Lydia asks, and Stiles nods slowly.

        “Something was fucking up with my voice before I passed out, too.” Stiles adds on quietly, feeling other people enter the house. Lydia looks pained, knowing she can’t talk about what’s going on anymore. Stiles had told her about the two new cops, and she doesn’t trust them either. Lydia picks up vibes when there’s a supernatural creature around, or when a supernatural creature had been around somebody. She’d gotten pretty strong vibes from Stiles the night Erica and Isaac had shown up.

        “Stiles! I’m home! You better be up, Lydia’s car is in the driveway.” John calls from the front room. Stiles frowns, rubbing at his face.

        “I should probably wash up, yeah?” Stiles asks, and Scott nods, looking at him carefully. Looking at him the way he does when he wants to say something not-human sounding but can’t because hostiles.

        “Yeah, dude. You reek.” Scott says, wincing as Stiles pales. The human scrambles to his feet, and Scott and Lydia stand up calmly.

        “I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry. Shower quickly, we have to go shopping today.” Lydia says, and Stiles makes a face before disappearing into his bathroom again. Scott hangs around in his room, but he can feel Lydia head downstairs to make food. Mid shower, the girl walks into the bathroom with a bag of makeup.

        “Lydia! What the hell?” Stiles cries, nearly falling as he shoves the shower curtain all the way to the side. Lydia isn’t even able to see anything, but Stiles is most definitely feeling exposed.

        “Shut up, you’re fine. You’re gay, I’m gay, there’s a group of silent assholes downstairs, and I haven’t finished putting on makeup.” Lydia murmurs as she drops eyeshadow containers and other makeup products on the counter next to the sink. Stiles grumbles angrily, finishing his shower quickly. Lydia places his clothes on the edge of the bath, and Stiles makes a face before just dropping his towel on the wet bottom of the bathtub. He gets dressed quickly, and he exits the shower before hanging his towel up. “Alright, now come here.”

        “What?” Stiles asks.

        “We should cover the mark. I don’t get good vibes from the people downstairs, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to see it. I think Scott and I, and the shower, already covered the scent.” Lydia says, and thank God for soundproof bathrooms. Stiles sighs before nearing the banshee, biting the inside of his cheek and holding onto the edge of the counter as he waits for the pain. He’s startled as Lydia just grabs his hand and puts some sort of foundation or concealer or something on the back of it. She shoves a weird, kind of damp sponge thing into his other hand.

        “Cover it. I don’t think I’m able to touch it without causing pain. I don’t think anybody but you and..” Stiles winces, swallowing thickly before nodding, patting the makeup with the sponge before patting it over the mark. The skin will still be raised a bit, but it’s _definitely_ going to be less noticeable. The two finish getting ready quickly, and Scott is waiting downstairs when they head to the kitchen. The werewolf has three large containers of food, and Stiles’ face heats as his stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud noise.

        “I can drive.” Scott offers awkwardly, and Stiles grins at his beta, desperately trying to ignore the two strangers in his house. They’re currently washing dishes, and Stiles just wants to know how they manage to not get water everywhere. The sink is kinda funk, and it malfunctions nearly every time it’s used. Whatever, though. Stiles doesn’t like them, doesn’t trust them in the slightest, but he can’t do anything. Stiles tugs on his jacket, and he pulls on his shoes quickly, tying them haphazardly. The alpha trips as pain suddenly shoots up from his ankle, but Scott catches him quickly.

        “Sorry. You know how clumsy I am.” Stiles responds to his dad’s sigh. When he glances over at his dad, the sheriff’s eyes are focused on Stiles’ ankle with an unreadable expression that seems _very_ vaguely sad.

        “Yeah. Have fun shopping, Stiles.” John says, and Stiles nods absently, already making a beeline for the door. Scott’s already started the Jeep, and Lydia had been waiting for him by the door.

        “Yep. Love you, pops. See you later.” Stiles calls over his shoulder, guilt eating at him as he closes the door behind him. When had it become so easy to lie to his dad


	4. Curly Blondes Just Wanna Be Pack

        Stiles clumsily slams the door to his dad’s office open, effectively scaring the older man. John’s on his feet, a hand near the gun that rests on his hip. “Hey pops.” Stiles greets, grinning widely at his dad. Said man sighs, rubbing at his face as he falls back into his chair.

        “Stiles.” John greets, his tone disappointed. Stiles wiggles a fast food bag in the air, tossing it onto his dad’s desk.

        “Nothing that unhealthy, though, so don’t get your hopes up.” Stiles says, wandering around his dad’s office. The teen grabs the pile of folders his dad tried to hide, sliding them into his bag and covering them with his hoodie. He replaces them quickly with different cases (ones not supernatural related), as he knows his dad hasn’t actually looked at them yet. Parrish had told him about the cases earlier today.

        “You know, usually, when people go to fast food joints, they get actual fast food.” John points out, and Stiles turns, dropping his bag on the floor casually. John’s looking down at his salad distastefully, and he’s already making faces at the frozen yogurt Stiles got him. His son grabs the burger and fries from the bag before his dad can steal a bite.

        “I let you have dressing on that.” Stiles points out, motioning to the Italian dressing on the salad with his burger. “And even a couple croutons. Use the granola that came with the yogurt.”

        “Shouldn’t you be watching your health, too?” John asks, narrowing his eyes in faux confusion. Stiles snorts.

        “Funny. I’m a growing boy. _And_ I’m in two sports, _and_ I work out regularly.” Stiles reminds his dad, who makes another face. His eyes flicker over to the corner, and Stiles raises a brow, tilting his head back to see what’s behind him. There’s a machine with a wooden base and a black wood frame-thing in a rectangle going off of it. There’s a little leaf design made of some sort of wires painted orange, and behind it is a little cascade of water. It almost looks like it isn’t hitting the bottom, as the water looks like it’s not moving. John’s cough effectively grabs Stiles’ attention, and the teen turns away from the machine.

        “Melissa give you that?” Stiles asks, knowing his and Scott’ parents are close. John’s face closes off for about half a second, before the expression vanishes.

        “No, nothing like that. Uh, one of the new deputies gave it to me. Said I was too stressed. The machine is supposed to help me relax or something.” Stiles frowns, turning back to his dad.

        “We have new deputies?” Stiles asks.

        “ _I_ have new deputies.” John corrects, raising a brow at his son’s eye roll.

        “Okay, _you_ have new deputies?” Stiles asks, and John nods, smiling a bit.

        “Good people. They help translate for the detectives.”

        “Wait,” Stiles frowns, “detectives? New ones?” Stiles actually has to stop himself from paling. “The people that keep coming to our house?”

        “Yeah. Before they had to write everything they wanted to say. Their sign language is, hell if I know, a different form? All I know is that Laura is-” John stumbles over his words for a second, and Stiles frowns as he dad continues, “able to translate. She knows a couple forms of sign language. It’s- uh, cool?”

        “Yeah.. I gotta, um, go help Lydia with her project. So..” Stiles clears his throat, standing up. He wanders over to his bag, zipping it and slinging it across his shoulder. He looks at the machine again, as it’s pretty close to where he dropped his bag, and the water still doesn’t seem to be moving at the bottom. Stiles frowns again, but he heads to the door quickly. “I’ll see you later, dad.” Stiles waves.

        “See you at home later?” John asks, and Stiles pauses in opening the door.

        “Uh, yeah. Probably.” Stiles opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. He closes the door quietly, biting the inside of his cheek as he takes deep breaths. He jumps as he turns around, a woman suddenly standing behind him. She raises a brow as he puts a hand against his chest, trying to get his breathing under control.

        “You okay?” She asks, sounding amused. Stiles throws an only half-real glare at her.

        “No. I’m dying. Already dead. Jesus _christ_ , how are you so quiet? I have to get you a _bell_.” Stiles hisses, narrowing his eyes as his heart rate refuses to lower. He looks at the woman again, and her eyes slide back to his from a position just a bit lower. From his _neck_. Stiles clenches his jaw, standing straight as he wipes emotion from his face. “Oh.”

        “Have a good one, Stiles.” The woman brushes past him, and Stiles flinches away from the contact. “Sir! I brought you some coffee.” The door closes and Stiles stares forward, his jaw and fists clenching. Parrish glances at him, nodding when Stiles narrows his eyes. The human swears, and he punches the wall. He storms out of the station before his dad goes to check on what the sound was.

 

***

 

        “In the _station_? Your _dad’s_ station? And he thinks they’re good people?” Lydia seethes, equally pissed at the mermaid so close to John.

        “I know, alright? I _know_.” Stiles snaps back, and Lydia rubs at her temples. She starts to reply, but the door opens. The two of them turn, and Erica raises her empty hand in surrender.

        “I bring food. And soda.” The blonde she wolf reaches into her purse and tosses a mountain dew bottle at Stiles. He catches it, sending Erica a grateful look as he cracks it open. She puts the McDonald's and Jimmy John’s bags down, pulling out a chair and sitting. “You alright?”

        “Not really.” Stiles grumbles, pulling out a Big Mac grumpily. Lydia throws him a suspicious look, and Stiles shakes his hand. He’s honestly too tired to not trust Erica right now. She’s in _his pack house_ bringing him _food_. She deserves _some_ kind of payment. “Merpeople.” Stiles clarifies, and Erica snorts.

        “Isn’t it always?” She asks, and Lydia rolls her eyes, wandering over and grabbing one of the subs from her bag. Stiles raises a brow at her, questioning. “Our alpha, our old one, got turned. Willingly. We didn’t know until it was too late, but he went batshit after. It wasn’t hard to figure out when he shifted, almost all the way, and the fucking scales came out. And the gills. That was when he attacked Isaac and I. I jumped in the way, Isaac helped me run. We ended up here.”

        “Ah.” Stiles mumbles around a bite of food.

        “How did you find us?” Lydia asks, and Erica shifts her focus to the other girl.

        “We smelled you guys. And we know Beacon has quite a few alphas. We kinda just smelled a pack, hoped you had a nice alpha, and ran. Still don’t know how it works with a human alpha.” Erica says, and Stiles shrugs, keeping his heartbeat even as he responds.

        “It’s a group effort.” Stiles says, and Lydia doesn’t even glance at him in confusion. Stiles is fucking _proud_.

        "He usually asks for our opinion. It comes down to a vote thing.” Lydia lies. She lies effectively if Erica’s nod is anything to go by. Stiles trusts Erica, not entirely but some. He trusts her not to kill him, at the least. Not alone. He doesn’t trust her enough for her to actually know Stiles most definitely makes every decision as an alpha. He does ask the pack for their opinions, but that doesn’t always affect his decision. He also hasn’t mentioned that when he’s actually prepared or when one of his beta is in danger he can actually take down at least five betas or an alpha.

        “How is Isaac? I haven’t seen him in a while. You two also need to sign up for school.” Stiles points out, digging around in the bag for the fries he smells. The alpha grins at the large fry at the bottom of the bag. He also appreciates the cookies, soda, frozen yogurt, and the twenty piece nuggets. He hasn’t eaten anything today, and his alpha spark is acting up because of the constant stress he’s under.

        “He’s.. Stressed. I don’t think he’s over what our last alpha did. I’ll get him in school as soon as I can alright? I can register tomorrow, or something.” Erica says, and Stiles nods.

        “You can probably survive another week, but you’d be fucked with finals if you wait any longer.” Stiles points out.

        “Yeah. You’re both graduating early, right?” Erica asks.

        “Mhm. I have plans set up for college as soon as I turn eighteen.” Stiles says, and Lydia nods in agreement.

        “Oh, shit, really? Wait, when’s your birthday? We can throw a party or something. Maybe head down to the Jungle?” Stiles shrugs.

        “That’s what I was planning. Most of the girls buy me drinks. Something about a failing attempt to recruit me. Apparently I’d look amazing in thigh highs.” Erica snorts, and Lydia gives Stiles an appraising look.

        “I could see it.” Lydia says, and Erica grins almost ferally.

        “I’m sure Allison looks better in them, huh?” Lydia sends Erica a dirty look, which the blonde barely reacts to.

        “Allison looks better in everything.” Lydia sniffs, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

        “Right. Really feeling the love here, guys. I’m gonna go find Isaac. I feel like he needs friends. And I need better friends. You two have fun.” Stiles leaves quickly, taking his bag and his soda with him. He wanders around the house, looking for the other new werewolf. He finds him in the kitchen, the sink full of dishes and soapy water. He was talking, Stiles isn’t sure too, but he quieted down as soon as he heard Stiles coming.

        “Hey.” Isaac greets quietly.

        “What’s up? Who you talking to?” Stiles asks, throwing himself into the chair opposite of Isaac. The curly haired boy lifts up his book briefly.

        “I like reading out loud. I don’t do all that well with silence, and most of these rooms are soundproof. So..” Isaac trails off, motioning to his book again. Stiles nods in understanding. He eats his fries as he heads over to the fridge.

        “What’d’ya want for dinner?” Stiles asks, and Isaac glances up at him.

        “Don’t you have dinner with your dad?” Isaac asks, and Stiles shrugs.

        “I mean, yeah. Doesn't mean you don’t want food, though” Stiles points out, and Isaac nods, marking his page before standing up and nearing Stiles. He looks into the freezer and fridge, frowning softly.

        “Um.. Maybe baked potatoes? And chicken tenders?” The teen offers, and Stiles nods.

        “Fuck yeah. We have bacon and cheese and stuff, too. How do you feel about loaded potatoes?”

        “They’re pretty good.” Isaac mumbles.

        “Then it’s settled.” Stiles claps, preparing the food quickly. He makes the chicken tenders first, as the deep fryer starts up faster than the oven. Isaac eats some of the strips quietly as Stiles starts the potatoes. The human pulls out one of the files from his bag, pulling out a pen too. Isaac glances at the papers.

        “What’s that?” He asks, and Stiles pulls the folder a bit closer to him.

        “Don’t worry about it. Just a side job, yeah? Just eat.” Stiles mumbles around the pen cap he’s chewing on. Isaac sighs, but he nods, turning back to his food.

        “If you need help, I’m here. Yeah?” Stiles pauses, glancing up at Isaac.

        “Yeah.” Stiles agrees quietly. Isaac grins widely, and then he focuses on eating again. He lets Stiles work until the potatoes are done, and then he gives him a quick “goodbye” when the human has to go.


	5. Run Bitch

        Stiles wakes up to the sound of his phone screaming, his heart hammering and his breathing too fast. Stiles can’t remember what happened exactly, but he knows damn well _who_ has him so panicked already. Stiles lifts a shaky hand up to his neck as he reaches for his phone, and he prods at the raised skin below his ear. He answers his phone, dropping his other hand down onto his lap. “Hello?” Stiles’ voice is rough with sleep.

        “Stiles? Where the hell _are_ you, man?” Scott’s voice crackles with bad connection, and Stiles frowns, rubbing the panic and sleep from his eyes as he looks around him.

        “That’s a good question, Scotty.” Stiles says, staggering to his feet. He’s in a house. An utterly fucking _destroyed_ house. The walls that are still standing are black and thin from fire damage, and the stairs next to Stiles look like they’d break if Stiles so much as breathed too hard in that direction. The floor and the couch Stiles had been on are stained with water damage, and even though the house seemingly hasn’t been touched in _years_ , it still smells like smoke and ash. The scents cling to Stiles’ clothes, even more so than the smell of rotting wood.

        “-kay? St-les?” Scott’s voice cuts out more and more the further Stiles wanders through the house.

        “I- Yeah. I’m okay. I feel like somebody is like ready to step out of the shadows and scare the shit out of me, though. I’m in the woods. In a house that looks like it was burned down.” Stiles turns in a circle, stepping around the chandelier that fell and was shattered across the ground.

        “-h-se?”

        “Shit. A _house_. In the _woods_. It’s all burned down.” Stiles jogs back over to where he woke up, frowning as his connection doesn’t get any better. “Scott? Buddy, can you hear me? Can you howl? Something? Anything? Look- My connection is somehow getting _worse_ and I can’t-” A feral shrieking, high pitched and overtoned, cuts Stiles off, echoing through the house and far off into the woods behind it. Stiles hangs his phone up, paling as he steps back into the house quietly, slinking down the hallway and around a corner.

        The human reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bag of glittery pink dust and grabbing some. He throws the dust over his head, barely managing not to sneeze as it settles on him. The shriek echoes again, closer this time, much closer. Mere seconds later, a roar responds, actually shaking the house with it’s power. Stiles winces back as dust showers down from the ceiling, shrinking smaller as he heads to the back door. He reaches up to unlock the door, but the sudden sound of rustling leaves has him dropping and sliding into one of the cabinets. Stiles closes the door quickly, and he watches through a small hole as the back door opens. It’s a mermaid that prowls in, obviously, but Stiles has to bite his cheek to stop a gasp as he watches her prowl through the kitchen.

        The mermaid is feral. The mermaid is _beyond_ feral. Her hair is a melting black mass, dripping down her back and onto the floor. Her mouth is split on the sides, allowing teeth that all look like fangs to peek through. She’s a full blooded mermaid, as her shifted form has fins on her head stretching back and more fins growing from her ears. Her eyes, too circular, too wide, are nearly entirely black as they flick around the kitchen.

        A sound like something a snake makes rattles out of her throat, and she quickly turns and pads towards the room Stiles had woken up in. Stiles holds his breath as he hears her near the stairs, and he shifts his weight, putting a hand on the cabinet door. As soon as he hears crashing and another shriek, Stiles bolts. The roar echoes again, too close, way too close, and it sounds angry. And _loud_. Stiles can feel his heart in his throat, can hear blood pounding in his ears, and he can hear screeching and quick footsteps over everything else.

        The mermaid is after him. The mermaid is after him and Stiles is only human and even with his bonus alpha status activating with a subsonic noise and a wave of power he’s gonna get caught. There’s no outrunning a feral mermaid. They’re quick and they’re vicious and you have no time to escape because even while they’re still evil they need _blood_. The feral mermaid is caked in it. Her arms and her face and her neck and her chest are stained red and are covered in gunk and chunks of skin and she’s after Stiles and _holy shit he’s gonna die_.

        A new cry enters the fray, cutting through the frenzied noises and the panicked footsteps and the brown leaves. This one is shorter, louder, deeper pitched but still female, and almost _right in front of Stiles_. The human dives to the side, only catching a glimpse of dark brown and curly hair as he continues running. His legs are burning and his legs are on fire, but the sound of fighting mermaids and the force of a much more powerful being coming closer and closer by the second is terrifying enough to keep Stiles going.

        There’s a pained cry, and then a snarled scream, and then Stiles is pitching forwards. His shoulder is on fire suddenly, a sharp and violent pain that rips an overtoned scream from his throat that burns like lava on its’ way out. Stiles twists mid fall, another scream echoing as dulling claws slice through his shoulder and his back. The human kicks at the mermaid, sending her flying back into a tree. Stiles starts scrambling back as quickly as he can with one arm and a lowering supply of blood.

        The mermaid twists, hissing out a rattling noise as she stumbles to her feet. Stiles flinches back, half closing his eyes as she launches herself again, arms soaked purple with mermaid blood reaching for him. She doesn’t get to him. The waves of power that had been getting closer since the first shriek slam into Stiles, nearly knocking him over. The mermaid is tackled mid-launch, and the two merpeople roll down the hill in a ball of terrifying snarls and deadly claws and teeth. Stiles clambers onto his feet, swaying from loss of blood as he staggers further away from the fight.

        Another feral screech, another rumbling snarl, and then a resounding crack fill the forest. Stiles stumbles further away, sprinting blindly towards the direction of barely-traceable pack bonds. Juiced up by alpha power, Stiles probably gets a couple miles in before the world starts shaking and dulling. He gets a few more before he collapses into the leaves, staining the dark colors with red.

        Somebody screams his name. Stiles isn’t sure who. The human can barely see when he’s grabbed and flipped onto his back, causing a silent scream to try to escape. The pain slowly ebbs away though, a blissful numbness covering his shoulder. And then his upper back. And then it slowly moves down his legs and up his neck. Stiles’ mouth is pried open, and the human startles back to some form of consciousness as something warm and wet is pressed against his mouth.

        The alpha holds him in place, keeping his wrist against Stiles’ face. He watches as Stiles tries to shove at his arm or his chest or whatever he thinks will work, but the human’s run out of power and energy and the merman is much stronger than him even then. He’d been expecting the human to give up after the first ten miles, as the alpha had learned early on in life that humans bleed out so quickly and unsatisfyingly. The human, the alpha thinks his name is Stiles, had kept going though. He’d run almost twenty five miles before falling to the ground, nearing death more than his home.

        “ _Enough_.” Stiles glares at the alpha, eyes flickering red weakly as his body freezes. His hand is still wrapped around the alpha’s forearm. How is he so pale while living on Beacon? The alpha moves his wrist away, quickly covering the human’s mouth with his hand. Stiles manages to go three minutes before the blood loss weakens his resolve enough for him to swallow. The human’s scent, strengthened by blind terror, sours in disgust and shame. The merman ignores it, shifting his grip so he can stand and lift the human with him.

        Stiles pales further, hands going to push him away, but the alpha just tightens his grip and clenches his jaw. “ _Sleep_.” He orders. Stiles is an alpha, but he’s also marked by the merman and unable to muster enough energy of his own to fight off the alpha command. His scent sharpens with fear before his body shuts itself down.

 

***

 

        Stiles wakes up again, this time in his own bed. His vision whites out in terror for a few moments before he takes in his surroundings. It takes him fifteen minutes to calm down enough for him to realize that he can’t sense the alpha. Even then, Stiles barely has enough time to curl up and shove his face into his hands before he starts crying. It’s silent, of course. He hasn’t cried out loud since his mom first got sick. He hasn’t actually cried this hard since his mom died.

        After he gets everything out, Stiles wanders almost numbly into the bathroom, staring at himself. There’s no blood. There’s no blood or dirt or mud or leaves, but the mark on his neck is different. Before it had just looked like an overzealous love bite or something, but now there’s a clear outline of teeth. The mark doesn’t look like it’ll just fade out to red anymore, either. It’s a _dark_ purple, almost black. Stiles think that might be the way it’s headed. The human just bites his cheek and takes out the makeup Lydia bought him, applying it carefully. The bite hurts, and he winces with nearly every dab of the blender.

        After the mark is covered, Stiles hobbles down the stairs, his legs sore from all the running for his life he did. John is sitting on the couch, a couple files splayed out on the table in front of him. Stiles can sense something like sadness rolling off of him. Regret, maybe? Doubt? Stiles doesn’t know. He can’t bring himself to ask. With all his damn secrets, he’s not sure he has the right. “Stiles.” John greets.

        “Hey dad.” Stiles mumbles, heading into the kitchen quickly. He makes himself some food that he doesn’t want to eat, and he grabs a drink he’s sure he’ll throw up, and he silently pads back into the living room. Heading towards the stairs, Stiles glances back at his dad. He holding something shiny and small, and when Stiles looks closer, he recognizes it with a painful pang in his chest. He wonders when his dad got a replica of his mom’s wedding ring as he climbs the stairs.


	6. This Will Get Somewhere At Some Point I Swear

  
        Stiles scribbles aimlessly on his paper, putting no effort into shading the small drawing he’s done instead of taking any sort of note. The air in the room is suffocating, but when Stiles thinks about it that might just be the dumbass tie Lydia forced him into. The real issue is how much _posturing_ is going on. You’d think with the actual threat of man-eating sea creatures knocking on Beacon’s door along with some sort of supernatural cult sacrificing werewolves would cause alphas to take like five chill pills and get a sense of self preservation. He’s gotten a few confused looks thrown his way, but Lydia is doing a pretty good job of masking the scent of his makeup with her own.

  
        “-and with that, does anybody have anything to report?” Stiles hears one of the alphas say. It’s only because Lydia stomped on his foot because she knows how much he isn’t paying attention. He hates these damn meetings. Nobody but Satomi ever actually listens to him, he has to wear fancy clothes, and he has a near constant need to release the power from his alpha spark. Stiles does a vague hand waving thing, grabbing almost everybody’s attention as he’s usually sulking during these meetings.

        “There’s an alpha who’s moved onto land.” He starts, causing everybody to actually pay attention to what he’s saying. “Insanely powerful, should probably be avoided. Black tail when he’s mermaid shifted.” A few of the other alpha’s pale, and a few of their seconds do too. There’s a noticeable tension that settles into the room, much thicker than what happens when too many cocky supernatural creatures are shoved into a room together. It makes Stiles’ hair stand on end. “He’s turned a beta already. Another one joined his back, as apparently he’d already been a merman.” The words hurt. Stiles had gotten close to Erica and Isaac. Knowing that Isaac had been playing him like a fool hurt, and knowing Erica ditched him for a merman she doesn’t feel too great either. It’s not as bad, though. Apparently the murderer was her mate.

        “Who?” Satomi asks, her eyes sympathetic even though her face is cold with anger.

        “A beta werewolf named Erica Reyes. Apparently her mate was in the alpha’s pack. The other was Isaac Lahey. I’m almost certain he was peaceful throughout his time on land so far, but I don’t know how solidly that plan will stay in place when he’s surrounded by a bunch of merciless merpeople. I think he’d just been stealing organs and blood from the hospital.” Stiles glances at Taron, the one merman that’s been living in Beacon. Using that exact method. “Have you been approached, sensed something off, felt like you’re being followed? Anything?” Taron actually thinks for a minute about that, and Stiles appreciates it.

        “For about a week at the beginning of the month I felt like I was being watched. I didn’t brush it off, but I definitely didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, either. I think they backed off when they realized I’m set on not killing people.” Taron says, and Stiles nods, rubbing at his temple.

        “There was a feral mermaid, too. I’m not sure how far out into the forest, as I’m pretty sure I was magicked out into the place I woke up at. Like, full out feral. Maybe even berserked.” Stiles frowns at the raised eyebrow from an alpha down the table.

        “And do you have actual _proof_ of this?” The alpha asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes, standing up. Lydia rolls her eyes too, glaring at the alpha as Stiles yanks off his stupid ass tie and his too-tight dress shirt. He turns to show the table the somewhat swollen, bright red skin around the claw marks in his shoulder and upper back.

        The human tugs back on his shirt, buttoning it up before he just shoves his tie into his pocket. “This might be totally unbelievable to you with your juiced up brain and overblown ego, but I _am_ an alpha, and I _do_ have to deal with shit while you all posture and ignore the real issues. We have a _cult_ that is killing your kind. There is a powerful ass alpha going around turning people and stalking betas. When you all pull your heads out of your asses, it’d be nice if you actually did something to protect our territory.” Lydia stands up as Stiles pulls on his jacket. “Fuck yourself.” Stiles leaves, Lydia grinning behind him as she slams the door.

 

***

 

        “We really.. Need to stop.. Getting into these situations.” Stiles pants, jumping over another log. His feet skid, but he catches himself on a nearby tree and pushes himself up away from the ground. Scott lets out an agreeing noise, breathing heavily as he trails behind Stiles. There’s a knife sticking out of his back, and Stiles has an arrow in his thigh and a cut on his cheek. From the same knife that’s currently residing in Scott’s back. Stiles slides to a stop as he sees the light from a flashlight ahead. He dives behind a rock quickly.

        “Where the fuck.. Are we.. Going?” Scott asks, sliding up next to Stiles. The human looks around wildly, picking an open spot quickly as he shoves himself to his feet again.

        “That way.”

        “Why that way?” Scott asks, and Stiles shrugs because he honestly has no fucking idea why that way.

        “Gotta say.. The one good part of my dad.. Ignoring me.. Is I don’t have to explain all this- _fuck!_ ” An arrow sinks into Stiles’ shoulder, causing pain to flare up and down Stiles’ arm and torso.

        “Stiles?” Scott sounds concerned. Shit. Whatever, Scott is always concerned.

        “Go! Gogogogogogo-” Stiles speeds up further, everything taking on a red tint as his alpha spark tries to force his wolf to take over.

        “You have.. Two arrows sticking out of you!” Scott hisses quietly, still stuck running just behind Stiles.

        “And you.. Have a knife! Just keep running.”Stiles orders, and he actually manages to go even faster as the bark on the tree next to him explodes. The gunshot echoes through the forest, and Stiles swears as he sees his path has taken them to the beach. There’s a cave. It’s way too close to the water, but honestly drowning is probably less painful than being shot repeatedly and being sacrificially murdered. Stiles sprints into the cave, ducking behind a rock. Scott looks pale and worried and nauseous, but he still joins him.

        “We’re going to be murdered. We’re going to be murdered and our choices are being torn to shreds, drowning, or being shot or knifed to death. Oh shit, oh shit.” Scotts hands shake as he grabs onto Stiles’ arm, ripping out the arrow that had flown into it. He takes the one in Stiles’ leg out quickly, and Stiles hopes the alpha spark at least lets it heal normally and not cause permanent damage.

        “ _Shit_. Positivity.. Just isn’t.. In your vocabulary.. Is it? Mrs.Johnson will be.. Very disappointed.” Stiles jokes, his chest heaving. He hears a dripping noise, and he pales when he looks down to see his blood dripping into water. _Black water_. “ _Fuck_.”

        “Are you okay? Are you healing?” Scott asks, eyes wide. Stiles opens his mouth to answer, but it snaps shut quickly as he hears yelling and footsteps thundering into the cave with them. Stiles throws Scott a concerned look, backing up deeper into the cave. He grabs one of the arrows that had been shot at him, and Scott unsheathes his claws as he follows. They hide behind opposite rocks, listening silently as the footsteps get closer and closer.

        Stiles bites his cheek and lunges, grabbing one of the cultists and dragging him back into the dark as he stabs the arrow into his neck. The human gags at the warm liquid that covers his hands, his stomach turning violently. He grabs the next attacker and slams their face against the wall, kicking the next one solidly in the chest. His eyes widen and he ducks as a gunshot echoes loudly through the cave, making his ears ring. A body goes flying over Stiles, and Scott flings his arm out, sending another person flying the other direction. They both hit the walls with a sickening _crack_. Stiles grabs a gun off of one of them, firing blindly in the dark. A gun fires again, and the bullet grazes Stiles’ arm.

        The amount of people at the mouth of the cave are multiplying, and Stiles feels blood drip down his arm. There’s more splashing, a lot steadier this time, and that’s concerning and all but Stiles is busy not dying and fighting off a panic attack and it’s dark and he can’t see Scott and oh _god is Scott okay where is he did he get_ -

        A thundering roar breaks through the gunfire and the heavy breathing and the white noise, and not even seconds later a wave of deadly black water rushes into the cave. Stiles throws his arms up in some useless attempt to protect himself, but the water stops before it reaches him, stilling silently a foot away from his hands. There are golden eyes staring at him in shock on the opposite side of the cave, but they snap back to the wave at it rips away violently, rushing back towards the sea.

        There’s a person at the mouth of the cave, tall and hard to see. Stiles knows who it is. Their eyes are burning a dangerously bright red, and they’re focused right on him. “Oh, shit.” The human murmurs, stepping closer to Scott protectively.

        “Stiles?” Scott whispers, willingly stepping behind his alpha.

        “ _Stiles_.” The man greets, his voice not as deep as Stiles originally thought, but still deep. Stiles can make out the alpha’s facial features vaguely, and he’s pissed because pretty faces most definitely happen to bad people.

        “ _Go away_.” Stiles replies, hating the over toned voice that passes his lips. It’s not natural. Not _human_. Stiles is very painfully human, and it’s one of the things that keeps him sane. He should _sound_ human. Not like the alpha staring at him and Scott with a worried expression.

        “Stiles, your arm.”

        “ _You’re bleeding_.” The alpha’s voice is much louder than Scott’s. Stiles hates it. Stiles _wants_ to hate it.

        “ _I’m aware. Thank you for your concern, but I think I’ll make it. Fixing myself up can be fit into my oh so busy schedule. If you’ll just, move a bit to the side I can-_ ” Stiles is cut off.

        “ _They did this? This.._ ”

        “ _Cult. Yes. I’m still alive though, so_..” Stiles winces as pain flares up from his leg and his arms. The alpha’s face goes stormy, but it smooths out quickly when Stiles winces.

        “ _I’m driving you home._ ” It sounds like an order, and Stiles scowls.

        “ _You will not_.”

        “ _I will. You won’t make it to your house in time otherwise. You’ll need to go the hospital for more blood._ ” Stiles makes a face, because the alpha is _right_ , dammit. Why does he get to be right?

        “ _I don’t even know your name_.” Stiles is grasping at straws. He knows it, the alpha knows it, Scott would know it if he knew what the hell Stiles was saying.

        “ _Derek_.” What a normal name for such a fucking terrifyingly powerful merman. Stiles sighs in defeat, his body nearly going limp. Stiles can see a triumphant grin before the alpha- _Derek_ turns around.

        “What the hell is going on?” Scott asks. Stiles rubs at his face.

        “He’s driving us to my house. I’ll lose too much blood otherwise. No, I don’t want to. No, I don’t fucking trust him. Just.. Come on.”


	7. What Happened W Erica and Isaac

        Erica is close to just falling asleep again as she stumbles into Stiles’ bathroom, staring at herself dully as she brushes her teeth. One of the downfalls of being a werewolf is definitely being able to smell your own morning breath as well as you can taste it. Isaac is the only one up in the other room, Stiles and the rest of the pack still dead to the world. Erica can hear the curly haired boy moving around upstairs as he gets ready to go out. The she-wolf pads back into the main room and down the hall, entering her bedroom in the pack house.

        The weather outside sucks. There’s a heavy rain that’s thundering against the bedroom window. It looks darker than usual, which makes Erica frown, but it makes sense as the water is picked up from the ocean and everything. The werewolf gets dressed quickly, putting on warmer clothes as Beacon is always cold when it rains. Her makeup, which she forgot to take off yesterday, is amazingly not messed up. Or, it’s good enough to go out with when Erica’s just going to the grocery store and to get coffee.

        It somewhat scares Erica how much she’s changed since Stiles has welcomed her into his house. Before, in the Faire pack, Erica’s self image had been both dirt poor and through the roof. It really depended on the day and what comments had been made earlier. She’d worn tight leather and corsets and tube tops, sometimes even just a bra and a leather jacket. Her jeans had been skin tight, almost painted on, and torn to shreds to show off more skin. Her makeup had been as dramatic as she is.

        Erica looks at herself in the mirror now, and she barely recognizes herself. She’s wearing sweatpants, _sweatpants_ , and a loose black t-shirt. Her hoodie barely matches everything else, and her shoes don’t have heels on them. Erica leaves her room before she starts crying or does something stupid like hug Stiles. Who would probably feel very uncomfortable with hugging. He seems uncomfortable with touching most of the time, unless it’s the entire pack together. Like the puppy pile last night. He’s okay with that, but he almost flinches away from a singular person.

        Isaac is hopping around by the door, struggling to tug his shoes on. Erica bites the inside of her cheek, doing her best not to wake up the pack. Isaac shoots her a dirty look after managing to get his shoes on. Erica just throws him a cheeky grin before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to her car. “You need to go anywhere? Be dropped off while I go shopping?” Erica asks, backing up quickly before speeding down the road.

        “The library, I guess.” Isaac says. “Can you pick me up some more ice cream at the store?”

        “Sure.” Erica rolls her eyes.

 

***

 

        Erica is staring down at the two spaghetti sauces with a frown, trying to remember which one tastes better. Money isn’t really an issue with this. Erica has her ex-alpha’s credit card and a job of her own. She eventually just gives up and decides to put them both in the cart, and she jumps as she turns into a large chest. Her eyes widen momentarily as they flicker up to stare into a pair of dark eyes that are already focused on her. There’s a flare of burning pain in her eyes, and Erica can guess what caused it when she sees the other man’s eyes burn into a shimmering silver.

        “Oh my god.” Of course Erica meets her mate in a grocery store. Of course it’s on one of the few days she doesn’t dress way up. And of course her mate is a fucking _merman_. “Oh shit. Oh _shit_.” The man tugs his hood up to cover the black scales that are scattered down his jaw and neck. Erica can guess that they cover his arms under the sleeves too as he tugs her quickly into an employee area.

        “Calm down.” His voice is deep, and he’s calm. Insanely calm. Way to calm for Erica, as she has no clue as to how _anybody_ can be calm after finding out their mate is an _enemy species_.

        “Calm down? _Calm down_? You are a fucking _merman_. You’re literally here to _kill us_. What the fuck. What the _fuck_!” Erica’s chest is tightening with each word, and she’s nearly screaming. Her vision is swimming. She nearly collapses when she’s dragged in against the merman. She hates how quickly her panic resides. Fucking mate abilities. Fucking mermen.

        “It’s okay. You’re okay. You need to calm down, or you’re going to pass out.” The merman’s voice is quiet for his size. Erica hates that she likes it.

        “Fuck. Fucking Stiles. Stupid fuck is gonna..” Erica does her best to brain herself on her mate’s chest. It doesn’t work.

        “Who?” The merman’s words are a rumble at the close proximity.

        “My kinda alpha.” Erica whines.

        “What? Is he going to hurt you?” The words are colder, more dangerous.

        “No. The asshole is going to let me go. Let me let myself get turned. He’s supposed to be my impulse control, dammit.” It’s quiet for a few moments. “I’m Erica, by the way.”

        “Boyd.” More silence. “You’re going to.. You’ll turn? You’ll take the bite? Again?” Boyd sounds hopeful. Erica huffs out an annoyed breath.

        “Yeah. You’re literally made for me. I’m not going to pass that up. That’s a forever thing. Like a forever happy thing. And it’s.. You guys are fucked up, but I wanna be happy. I only started being happy again. I don’t wanna lose a for sure thing, you know?” Erica asks.

        “I know.” _More_ quiet. “I should call my alpha.”

        “Shit, I should probably call Stiles. And Isaac. He’s more my pack than anybody else. He came with me from my old one.” Erica explains.

        “..Would he want to be changed with you?” Erica glances up at Boyd before tugging away, thinking about it.

        “Yeah.. I think he would. He loves Stiles too, but..” Erica shrugs. Isaac is closer to her. Erica is pretty sure that he’d follow her into the depths of hell if she asked.

        “I’ll tell my alpha.”

 

***

 

        Isaac is still staring at his phone when he hears the library doors open. Feels the overwhelming force of a way-too-powerful alpha. His hands shake as he looks up to stare at the merman. Tall, dark hair, oddly colored eyes. Looks pretty strong muscle wise, even without the added abilities of an alpha. He looks like somebody Stiles would accidentally trip himself over at the Jungle. He also looks absolutely fucking terrifying as his eyes burn red through the green-grey-blue and focus on Isaac.

        He tilts his head to the side, very obviously not in a submissive way, and Isaac gets up and walks in the direction he tilted his head. The alpha follows closely behind, and he closes and locks the bathroom door after stepping in after Isaac. The alpha crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on the beta werewolf. “You’re sure?” His voice is scratchy and rough, probably from disuse and rarely speaking English. Isaac thinks about it again before nodding.

        “Erica’s.. Pretty much all I have. Most of the pack doesn’t trust me, even though Stiles is doing his best to show that they can. Where she goes, I’ll go.” Isaac shrugs. The alpha is quiet for a few moments before nodding. He steps forward and grabs Isaac’s arm. He glances at Isaac’s face again, making sure that he’s sure, before his fangs drop. Merpeople fangs are different than werewolf fangs. Or pretty much any other shifter’s fangs. They’re even more different if the person was some other species than human before they got turned, too.

        This alpha was a werewolf before getting the Bite. He has the four larger fangs on top and the two fangs on the bottom. On the top there’s another two fangs behind the canines and on the bottom there are smaller fangs next to the bigger ones. His eyes shift too. An inky black swirls around the blood red irises, and scales the same color appear sprayed across his face, neck, wrists, pretty much every visible area. They’re likely on his sides and legs too. The fangs sink into Isaac’s wrist cleanly, cutting through skin and muscle like a hot knife through butter. The pain is _strong_ , and Isaac would probably fall if the alpha hadn’t grabbed his other arm before biting him to keep him up.

        He trips backward as soon as the fangs are out of his wrist, stumbling until he hits the wall to slide down it. He clutches his wrist to his chest, grimacing as he feels blood soak his shirt as his muscles try to mend themselves back together. There’s a knock on the door, accompanied with a low, “Derek.” The alpha’s name? The name of the person knocking? Whatever it means, the alpha (Derek?) opens the door quickly. Erica strides in, startling at Isaac’s state. A large man, probably Erica’s mate, Boyd, follows her. Her curly blonde hair is damp from the drizzle outside, but her clothes are still dry. Probably because she’s wearing a big coat, probably Boyd’s. Isaac thinks he might be a bit confused because of the pain in his wrist that’s spreading through his body slowly.

        “Stop staring.. And suffer with me.. You fuck.” Isaac playfully orders, breathing a bit heavily.

        “Asshole.” Erica breathes shakily before standing and facing Derek. She holds out her wrist with a calm Isaac is jealous of. Derek raises a brow before taking it and biting her too. She’s able to keep standing until she hits the wall and sits beside Isaac.

        “This is gonna hurt Stiles. He wanted us to be pack.” Isaac points out. Erica takes a slow, shaky breath.

        “Yeah. He’ll get it, though. It won’t be as bad.”

        “Still.” Isaac frowns, and Erica nods sagely.

        “We’ll.. Talk to him?” Boyd asks the last part. Derek nods.

        “Him or the sheriff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is still kinda shitty bcause my mind is focused more on a different story and I'm struggling to get it focused back on this one. I apologize rn for any like shit chapters n stuff because I have like the BIGGEST issue focusing on one story. While actually writing and updating this one, I'm mentally working on and jotting down not only a medieval-ish royalty AU, but also a prison AU, a tribe Au, and a celebrity Au so i'M SORRY FORGIVE ME P L E A S E


	8. Sorry

Aight so I am NOT quitting this but I'm putting this on hiatus cause I'm an asshole w a focusing issue and clubs so I'm going to put this on pause, write a good amount of chapters without updating, and after feeling like I've got enough I'm gonna start updating again I am so sorry but yeah I'm kinda busy w other books for my family and clubs and stuff like that. I'm still gonna be working on this along w a few new things but yeah this prob wont be updated for a while


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